Astra_K

The Echo Between Us
A Novel by Astra K.

Lana Vienne never believed in fate-until the night she left a note between the pages of a forgotten book, never expecting anyone to find it. It was nothing more than a quiet confession, a whisper of longing pressed onto paper, meant to disappear into the endless hum of the city.

But when she walks into Café Amour weeks later, she sees him-Oryn Moreau, the man the world knows as Ryn, a famed yet elusive writer-reading her words.

She doesn't know him, but he knows her words.

And somehow, it feels like he's been waiting for them all along.

Set in the dreamy city of Aurivelle, where love lingers in quiet corners and fate writes between the lines, The Echo Between Us is a story of serendipitous moments, unspoken emotions, and the delicate line between fiction and reality.

The Echo Between Us

The rain hadn't let up. If anything, it had deepened into a steady, rhythmic downpour, drumming softly against the windows of Café Amour. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of espresso and warm pastries, the low hum of conversation wrapping around Lana like a distant lullaby.

She sat by the window, her fingers curled around a ceramic cup, steam curling into the air. The note rested beside her on the wooden table, its edges slightly softened from where she had folded and unfolded it. She had read it more times than she would admit.

She traced the ink absently, her fingertip gliding over the words, as if doing so would let her feel the weight they carried. The handwriting was deliberate, yet there was something unguarded about it. Like a thought someone had written down too quickly, too honestly, before they could take it back.

"Maybe in another life, we would have met in a different way. Not as strangers caught between fleeting moments, but as something more. Maybe..., just maybe, you would have stayed."

She exhaled softly, her gaze flickering to the rain-speckled glass. There was a strange ache in her chest, a feeling she couldn't quite name. Who had written this? And who had they meant it for?

And across the café, just past the threshold, he saw it.

Oryn Moreau hadn't planned to come here. He had only meant to walk-to let the rain soak through the edges of his coat, to listen to the city breathe in the quiet way it did at night. But something had pulled him inside. A force he couldn't explain.

Or more precisely, he saw her-a girl sitting by the window, holding the note like it meant something.

For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. It wasn't supposed to be here. Not in her hands. And yet, there it was-the familiar slant of his handwriting, the words he had once left behind, now being read by someone who was never meant to find them.

A slow realization settled over him, curling in his chest like smoke. She wasn't just glancing at it-she was feeling it. He could tell by the way she lingered, by the almost imperceptible crease in her brow.

Did she know? Did she somehow sense that the person who had written it was standing just a few feet away?

Oryn's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. He could go to her. Say something. Reveal himself.

But instead, he exhaled slowly, ordered a coffee, and chose a seat in the corner-just close enough to watch the moment unfold a little longer.

And then, for the briefest second, she looked up.

A flicker of something passed between them-something weightless, something heavy. But before either of them could place it, she looked away, her fingers tightening around the note.

Oryn took a sip of his coffee, his heart beating just a little too fast.

The Café Encounter